


dancing in the dark

by Ethereally, indevan



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Title: Yuri Leclerc Sucks The Two Biggest Dicks In Fodlan, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Yuri Has Two Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally, https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Balthus and Ashe both have feelings for Yuri; Yuri's been avoidant and evasive in response. They work to piece their emotions together before Yuri can wiggle his way out of them.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	dancing in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> balthus pov was written by [indevan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan), ashe pov was written by [ethereally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereally). art by enlightningbugs!

Yuri tastes like the red wine they’d shared, and his kisses linger with the aftertaste of his strawberry lip gloss. He smirks into their kiss when he curls his hands around Ashe’s waist, pressing him up against the wall of their dormitory hallway; Ashe’s eyes widen in brief panic that they might not be alone. Yet that fear dissipates in a matter of moments when Yuri trails a hand onto his waist, and Ashe finally kisses him back with unbridled force. 

It’s thrilling, tantalizing to be drinking in Yuri’s scent, to inhale the swirls of jasmine and bergamot that he’s come to associate with his long-lost friend. Ashe is fully aware that Yuri’s got him wrapped around his little finger, but in these short flights of fancy he can’t bring himself to mind. Yuri makes it very easy to get caught up in him, after all. He grabs hold of Ashe’s wrist and pins it against the wall, beginning to leave soft kisses down Ashe’s neck, breath ghosting over Ashe’s skin in a way that makes his heartbeat race. There’s a certain romance around the facade of Yuri Leclerc, and Ashe is almost giddy enough to fall, fall, fall.

Sometimes Ashe wonders if Yuri wishes he hadn’t seen past the act. There are some things you can’t unlearn when you’ve known each other from the days of your childhood, even if one of you performed a vanishing act only to reemerge ten times more dashing ten years later. Ashe remembers how Yuri’s heart bled as a child, how Yuri’s voice would drip with emotion at the sight of injustice or hurt. He’d thought Yuri an inspiration once, and if he were to be an artisan Yuri would most certainly be his muse.

When Yuri kisses him again it’s almost enough for Ashe to believe that they’re in love.

Ashe would like to think himself no fool. Yuri’s made it clear that their dalliances are casual, that this is just a wartime fling to bring them comfort amidst the hurt. And perhaps it was a mistake to agree to this when Ashe knew his feelings run far deeper than that of a fling, but there are fleeting moments where their skin touches and Ashe feels an overwhelming sense of lightness and mirth, like Yuri and him could conquer the world together. Yuri’s free hand slides down to cup Ashe’s waist, and Ashe sighs into the kiss, pleasure rushing through his veins when they hear the pitter-patter of footsteps--

Yuri tears away, quick and gently enough that the two of them almost look innocent. Ashe scrambles to his feet, still panting, noting the sound in the distance growing louder, louder. He leans in to whisper at Yuri, tugging on his sleeve.

“Let’s take this to my room,” Ashe murmurs. “We’re right outside. Come on, Yuri, it’ll be f--”

Yuri says nothing but whirls around, bolting in the other direction.

*

Balthus has never been good with languages. The secret kinds. The unspoken kinds. He speaks two, technically, even if one is patchy, put together from memories of his mother singing him lullabies and smoothing his hair away from his face. What he doesn’t get is _nuance_. Yuri is a master of it. Of sleight of hand, minute gestures, raised eyebrows.

He doesn’t know delicacy himself. He blunders in with both fists raised always. He reckons that that’s how he’s gotten in the situation that he’s in now with debts and bounty hunters and holes in his memory due to excess.

Despite all that, he knows there’s something more happening here. Yuri is at the training ground, the one above ground at the monastery. And is it still a monastery, Balthus sometimes wonders. It definitely isn’t a school anymore. But being in the fresh air is nice. Five years has seen improvements to the Abyss since the Professor came down and blinked their vacant eyes at the Wolves’ dirt-streaked faces and helped the lot of them, but it still doesn’t replace sunshine. Constance wouldn’t agree, but hey. She’s not here.

Yuri is watching him spar with Caspar von Bergliez. He’d approached Balthus and expressed interest in grappling and how could he turn him down? His excitement reminded him of his youth, trying to get Holst to brawl with him. Holst was unparalleled with an axe, but Balthus always got the upperhand in brawls. Brawls were what made sense. None of this secret no-talk conversation bullshit. When he’s fighting, slamming his fists down on an opponent’s face like a sledge, that’s what makes sense.

But he can’t shake the feeling of Yuri’s eyes on him. He sees him from the corner of his own eye, standing to the side. His arms loosely hold his sides and he has an unreadable expression on. That’s nothing new. Yuri’s poker face is second to none and he knows it. Sometimes he comes to the three of them--he, Constance, and Hapi--and asks “What am I thinking?” and staring at them while they fire off guesses. It can break though, in jocular moments like this. Yuri laughing, tipping back that immaculate face of his and shaking out his silken lavender hair. He’s most beautiful, then. Not that Balthus has told him that. That’s never been their arrangement.

Not that there’s really one now. Yuri’s been...off lately. He won’t tell him why--of course he won’t--but he’s been somewhat distant. Balthus doesn’t know what’s going on, but his bed has certainly been colder without him.

“RRRAARH!”

Balthus whips his head around and raises his forearm to catch Caspar’s training gauntlet. It thunks against his bone and he winces in pain. His own fault for dropping his guard and thinking he could block it like that. Gritting his teeth, he shakes the arm out and swings with the other. Caspar leaps back and nearly trips over his boots. He catches himself and propels his body back upwards, coming at him again with another snarl.

“You can do it, Caspar.”  
Linhardt tries to sound disaffected and he certainly looks it: slouched on the sun-touched stone, one hand shielding his eyes, but Balthus can tell he’s really rooting for Caspar. It’s almost cute. Ashe stands next to him, but his eyes aren’t on their spar. He’s staring at Yuri and wearing a confused, wounded expression. If Yuri’s poker face is indiscernible, Ashe’s is pathetic. He would do horribly at cards. Everything is painted on his face, clear as day. Yuri isn’t acknowledging his looking, he keeps his eyes on Balthus like he’s waiting for a show.

_Well if you want one, boss…_

He pulls Caspar in a headlock, getting a loud and indignant squawk out of the younger man and, with his other arm, flexes. Yuri rolls his eyes but his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smirk. Ashe must notice the twitch because his lips droop a little. There’s probably a lot floating unsaid between them but Balthus can’t decipher it. Instead, he can focus on what’s in front of him. A wriggling, blue-haired scrapper who reminds him too much of himself. Straight forward. Easy. And if Yuri enjoys what he sees, hey, all the better.

Caspar breaks free and launches himself at him. He gets his arms around his neck and Balthus swings him around to get him off. Instead, he winds up tangled up in his hair, arms locked on his neck, wrists against his throat. He dangles off of him like a rucksack, trying to use his weight to pull him down. Balthus clenches his jaw and plants both feet on the ground. Caspar is grunting and shouting in his ear in a way that’s starting to make it ring. He pushes his torso forward, hoping to make Caspar spill forward and land on the ground.

He never gets the chance. Before Balthus can begin his counterattack, the ground flies out from beneath him. He can feel the cold, sharp tingle of wind magic on him before he falls forward. He abandons grabbing for Caspar and throws both hands out to catch himself. It’s in this moment that he’s glad that he decided to go with hand wraps instead of training gauntlets for sparring. He can only imagine what a mess he’d make of his hands.

“Yeaahhh!” Caspar crows.

He hops off of Balthus’s back and lifts both hands up in victory. Balthus turns his head from his prostrate position just in time to see the sigil of magic fade from the tips of Linhardt’s fingers.  


“Caspar! That’s cheating!” Ashe’s voice is indignant, which is surprising. Balthus doesn’t know him. Didn’t know he had any fire in him. “What about justice?”

“It’s not cheating,” Linhardt says. He flicks his hand out in a gesture, making his sleeves flap. “It’s teamwork.”

Caspar grins broadly, whatever moral dilemma Ashe put towards him solved. He plops himself next to Linhardt and slings a sweaty arm around his shoulders, gauntlets and all.

“And that’s how we’re gonna win this war.” He presses his lips to Linhardt’s temple.

Ashe stares at them for a moment before dropping his gaze. Balthus looks away, too, choosing instead to roll onto his back and catch his breath. Linhardt’s surprise attack knocked it out of him. He lies there for a moment, before a face comes up over him. Yuri’s hair is in his face, shadowing in a way that nearly hides his bemused expression.

“Need some help there, friend?”

Yuri offers his hand. He reaches for it. Yuri’s short, but his hands are big as if he should have kept growing. They’ve got long, tapering fingers but his hands are strong. Firm. Narrow, delicate-looking wrists, though. Balthus’s hand still dwarfs his when he clasps onto it. He lets himself get hauled to his feet and shakes his head.

“I woulda won if he didn’t have his loverboy around to bail him out.” He spares an angry glance over his shoulder towards Caspar and Linhardt.

Yuri tips his head to the side in a clearly practiced motion.

“Maybe you should get your own, then.”

Balthus smirks.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ve already got one.”

He says it to test things, to get a reaction of some kind. What he gets is Yuri raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Oh? You’ll have to introduce me some time.”

Balthus fights back a sigh and tries again.

“Got a mirror on you, boss?”

He says it with a purposefully playful lilt to his voice to know he’s not really serious. Yuri isn’t his loverboy. Yuri turns his hand out and rotates it palm down.

“Ha. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Hmm?”

Behind him, Balthus can hear Ashe arguing with Caspar and Linhardt about ethics and justice and fighting fair.

“Yeah.” Yuri draws a bit closer, angling his hips forward towards Balthus. “I want to go back to before.”

_Before?_

Balthus doesn’t get his angle. Before what? From all he can tell is that Yuri used to come to his bed at regular intervals and they’d have fun. Sometimes he’d be worn out enough from the sex to fall asleep and stay the night, but usually he would get up, get his makeup right, and leave. It was a good arrangement, until Yuri stopped coming around. Balthus could have gone after him, but he knows that Yuri’s the one who calls the shots.

Instead of voicing this, Balthus folds his arms and smirks. It’s easier to just accept it.

“So you’ll come round tonight, yeah?”

The argument behind him has faded, even if he can hear Caspar still speaking loudly. Yuri reaches to push some of that pretty lavender hair of his behind one ear.

“I do appreciate how you get right to the point, Balthus.” He laughs. “Yeah. I’ll be there tonight.”

He reaches out to squeeze at his bicep. Balthus flexes his arm.

There are footfalls behind him. Yuri’s face actually falters for a moment, his mouth going slack. Balthus twists to see Ashe storming out of the training yard.

“Hey, Ashe!” Caspar calls. “Are you actually mad? Ashe?”

He gets no answer. Ashe storms towards the heavy doors of the training yard. He doesn’t look at either of them. And Balthus isn’t tricky or smart like Yuri is, but he’s certain that his exit has nothing to do with his argument with Caspar.

*

Ashe knows that he shouldn’t be upset. _It’s all casual_ , Yuri’s voice whispers, flippant and charming in its wild charm, ringing in his head like a swansong. _It’s all in good fun._

Nevertheless, it’s difficult to not replay Balthus and Yuri’s conversation again in his mind, their words haunting him like the specters that loom Garreg Mach at night. “I’ll be there tonight,” Yuri had said, and it had been with a decisiveness to his tone that Yuri had never used with Ashe. It makes perfect sense to Ashe that Yuri might have multiple partners, that there’s nothing special about the dynamic that he and Yuri share, but Ashe can’t help but wonder if Balthus is the reason that Yuri has been so evasive as of late. There was the incident of a few days ago in the corridor, but--

Ashe thinks of how they’d been in his room a few nights ago, curled into each other, Ashe resting his head on Yuri’s shoulder as Yuri read aloud, teasing him about his tales of knights and princes and happily ever afters. Yet Yuri had joined him in doing voices for each and every character on the page, the two of them laughing and reading and miming each role until Yuri had suddenly paused, said he had to leave, and bolted from the room--

Or how they’d been eating together in the dining hall the other day, having a conversation about allergy-free cats. Yuri was swearing up and down that they were a lie, while Ashe insisted that animals such as those did exist and he knew this because he’d read about them. Ashe had just been joking about getting one that they could both care for when Yuri conveniently finished the rest of his soup and changed the topic to how unfulfilling lunch had been--

Come to think of it, Yuri’s been avoiding him for a few days now. Yuri’s mentioned being capable of loving multiple people at once, being able to hold a candle for more than one flame, but the thought that Ashe might not be special to him pierces through Ashe’s chest like a flurry of cruel arrows. 

It shouldn’t, he knows. It’s irrational, he knows. He’d walked into this situation with the boundaries spelled out and it’s his own fault for accepting a deal that he should never have entertained. But Ashe has never been great at regulating his feelings, and even the promise of touching the ghost of something more had been sufficient to compel him to say yes. He continues to run, run from the training grounds, darting towards his room so he has space to sob. Ashe is almost definitely overreacting to this, but he’s allowed to offer himself space to lick his wounds. Not that he’s been given a lot of chances to do that in the past, anyway.

His sprint is interrupted by a calm, quiet voice.

“Hey Freckles, rushing somewhere?”

Ashe whirls around to notice Hapi sitting on a bench in the courtyard, flipping through a magical tome that’s mostly too difficult for him to decipher. He parts his lips to answer, but no words come out; he stares at her, dumbfounded as she flips through the page. She raises a brow.

“You look like you’re in a hurry. Care to share?”

“I-- I--” 

Ashe flushes bright red, and he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t start spilling tears. But Hapi’s gaze is certain and unwavering, and with just one look he knows that she’s got an inkling as to why he’s hurting. Resigned, Ashe sighs, voice shaking as he tells her the whole story, only to be greeted by an upturned smile and a slightly raised brow.

“Wouldn’t sell myself short if I were you, Freckles.”

“W- what does that mean?” he asks. Hapi lets out a gentle laugh.

“I’ve seen how Yuri-bird looks at you. I think you’re smart enough to put the pieces together. Figure it out.”

*

Sex with Yuri is always interesting. Maybe _interesting_ isn’t the right word, but Balthus can’t think of another way to describe it. Maybe it’s because they’ve both been with so many. Before their arrangement even began in the first place, Balthus was never coy about his exploits. He’s the undisputed King of Grappling, Goddess damn it, and that extends to the bedroom.

Yuri had shown up to his room with a bottle of wine. The bottle--an old, dusty thing with no label that was likely made by someone in Abyss rather than any fancy topside shit--is long empty, lying on the floor with the rest of Balthus’s clutter. Yuri had tasted like wine before they even uncorked this bottle, making him wonder if he had imbibed any before coming to his room. His lips were a little stained, a little smudged, that pretty gloss of his below his lower lip. But Balthus hadn’t commented on it. Instead he had held the bottle to his groin and dug the blade of a small knife into the cork to pull it out. Yuri had laughed and dropped to his knees, fitting the bottle into his mouth and drinking from it his eyes peeking up at Balthus’s face as he did.

Now they’ve opted to test what his bed down here can take. He’s broken beds before. Once, a fancy noblewoman took him to her chambers and then put a bounty on him after they broke her bed and he didn’t have the money to get it repaired. He knows Yuri would never pull something like that. He’s never _quite sure_ where he and Yuri stand in their relationship, but he knows this. He’s honest except when he’s not. Except when it matters. Not that Balthus can judge. He lies all the time, even if someone (usually Hapi) catches him in the act more often than not.

“Mm,” Yuri purrs from beneath him. “I did miss this, you know.”

He arches his back. He sounds composed, put together, but that’s no surprise. Yuri may be naked but there’s still so many layers he hasn’t taken off.

“Y-yeah,” Balthus says back. “Me too.”

And he has. He likes the nights where Yuri is in his bed. Likes the nights better when he’s too jelly-legged to leave his bed and so falls asleep in his arms. And that’s a good sight, Yuri asleep with his head pillowed on Balthus’s bicep, expression peaceful. If he’s honest, he wouldn’t mind waking up to that sight every day but. That’s getting sappy and ahead of himself. Yuri would never allow it. He’s surprised he even propositioned him again in the training yard.

“What made you change your mind, boss?” he asks.

He stills his ministrations, steadying his hands on Yuri’s back. He rubs his thumbs on either side of his spine, working the tight muscles. Yuri glances over his shoulders, some hair sticking to the sweat on his face. His mascara is running.

“Are we really having this conversation when your cock is in my ass?”

“Maybe.”

Balthus pulls himself out even if he can _feel _Balthus Jr. isn’t happy. Yuri seems to share his lower head’s sentiments because he lets out a groan and switches from his position on all fours to sitting with his legs crossed. He braces an elbow on his bent knee and leans his cheek on his closed fist.__

__“What’s the deal, friend?”_ _

__“I’m just wonderin’,” he says back._ _

__“Yeah?” Yuri arches his brows expertly._ _

__With his free hand, the one closest to Balthus, he reaches towards his groin. He wraps it around Balthus’s cock and begins slowly working his hand._ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__He draws in a deep breath through his nose, holds it, and exhales through his mouth. Nearly a decade and a half of practice has made him able to last. If Yuri expects him to come easily and lie in a befuddled heap on the bed too tired to question him about the circumstances of this reunion, he has another thing coming._ _

__“About why you wanted to come round again,” he says and gives a smirk to show he isn’t backing down._ _

__Yuri lifts his face enough to flick his hand out before resting his cheek again. He continues working him slowly, almost lazily, taking his time pumping up and down the length of him._ _

__“I wanted to,” he says simply. “That’s all.”_ _

__“Yeah? And it’s got nothing to do with Ashe?”_ _

__Yuri’s hand stills. Despite his resolve, Balthus has to swallow a groan. At this rate, he actually _will_ come. Or die. Whichever comes first._ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“I saw him watching you.”_ _

__Those pretty lips of his roll in for the briefest second as he recovers. He’s nearly disarmed, Balthus realizes, naked and sweaty and half-fucked like this, and his poker face is slipping. Just a bit, but enough for him to notice._ _

__“Is that how Caspar was able to beat you?”_ _

__“Hey! No! He beat me ‘cause he cheated. End of story.”_ _

__Balthus reaches down and takes Yuri’s wrist. Gently lifts it off of him and places it back on his own lap._ _

__“And you’re changing the subject, boss.”_ _

__Yuri sighs and stares down at his hand. Clenches his fist._ _

__“It was for me,” he says, “but a little for him.”_ _

__“You’re fucking him too, hey?”_ _

__He lifts his head and cocks it to the side, some hair falling in his face to obscure his gaze. This time, unlike before when he’d helped Balthus up, when he moves his head back, some still sticks to his cheek and forehead._ _

__“Would it bother you if I was?”_ _

__Balthus considers the statement. In all honesty, it wouldn’t. If he can have Yuri like this, if he could get him to stay, he wouldn’t care if he warms another’s bed now and then._ _

__“No,” he says._ _

__“No?” Yuri raises his brows. “I thought you were greedier than that.”_ _

__He shakes his head._ _

__“Not about this.”_ _

__“Ah. Well then.”_ _

__Yuri leans back and stares at the underside of the unoccupied bed above them._ _

__“I’m not,” he says after a moment. “Fucking him, I mean. We haven’t fucked.”_ _

__The _yet_ dangles in the air. Balthus doesn’t know the politics, doesn’t want to know them.  
“Then what makes me special?” He frowns. “Or him?”_ _

__Now _that_ would make him jealous. Yuri not wanting to demean perfect little saint Ashe with something as filthy as easy fucking while using Balthus to get his rocks off._ _

__“It’s not like that,” Yuri says after a moment. The corners of his lips droop. “With either of you.”  
Balthus isn’t sure what he means by that. He’s certain it falls in the realm of _nuance_ and unspoken shit that he doesn’t catch._ _

__“Yeah?” he prompts._ _

__“Yeah,” Yuri echoes. “It isn’t a matter of one of you being special and the other not it’s. You won’t try to make...proclamations.”_ _

__Balthus isn’t sure what he means by that. He really doesn’t take Ashe for the type to march around the monastery telling anyone who would listen that he and Yuri fucked. He tries to picture him kicking down the door to the cardinal’s room while Claude and Byleth strategize their next move to inform them about the details of his sex life, but fails._ _

__“Proclamations?”_ _

__“Expectations, maybe,” he amends. “I’m not talking about him clinging to my trouser leg or anything, but. He’s less...cavalier than you.”_ _

___Ah, so that’s it._ _ _

__He can work it out now. Yuri thinks Ashe will make more of their relationship than there is if they fuck, and he figures that Balthus doesn’t care. That means Yuri, with all of his scheming and thinking two steps ahead, has no clue about Balthus’s thoughts of consistently waking up in each other’s arms. Or, when Yuri pulled him to his feet in the training yard, he thought later about letting him keep pulling him so he could press their bodies flush against one another. So he could bend down and kiss him._ _

__“Hmm,” he says, because he knows not to voice that. Especially now. Especially when Yuri has outright said why he hasn’t slept with Ashe. “But you’ve fooled around?”_ _

__Yuri lifts a bare shoulder in a shrug. “We have.”_ _

__Why Ashe left is getting clearer by the second. He probably feels like Yuri is doing his head in with these games. Balthus thinks he probably ought to talk to him. Discuss what they had in common. Maybe._ _

__“He’ll get over it,” Yuri says, but his voice catches just the tiniest bit. Enough that even Balthus can catch it. His veneer is slipping and he doesn’t know if Yuri realizes it._ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__He watches Yuri swipe at some of his mascara, smearing it further. He looks a mess like this and Balthus had originally intended to make an even bigger one out of him. Pictured himself pounding into him from behind while fingering him from the front. Now he isn’t so sure. Thinking about Ashe and apparent proclamations. He knows not to even try the same. He’s only just gotten Yuri back in his bed after so long._ _

__“So what? You stopped coming round because of Ashe?”_ _

__He never could leave well enough alone. When he was a kid, he would notice a tooth was loose and, by the end of the day, he would have it out of his mouth. Holst always stared in mixed shock and disgust as Balthus showed him his tooth, blood dribbling down his chin. He never let things rest, never let them take their course._ _

__“Somewhat.” Yuri pulls some hair that’s stuck to his face and tucks it behind his ear. He sighs and adds, “I’m a bit confused.”_ _

__Balthus leans over a bit to smooth some of his hair back himself. Yuri reaches up and puts his hand over his, the fingertips light on Balthus’s knuckles._ _

__“About?”_ _

__Yuri runs his fingers down the bones of his hand and lightly curls them around Balthus’s wrist. He turns his hand over, palm up, and kisses the heel of it before biting down gently._ _

__“Don’t worry about it, big guy.”_ _

__Balthus wants to press him more--that he _is_ worried about it, worried about him--but Yuri has let go of his hand and is moving that mouth of his back towards his cock and he decides that further discussion can wait._ _

____

*

Ashe draws his curtains shut when he returns to his room after dinner, and doesn’t bother to turn on a light. He leaps onto bed, burying himself in a heap of knit blankets. Ashe rubs his face in the comfort of soft wool, replaying Hapi’s words in his mind like a spurned romantic heroine.

_I’ve seen how Yuri-bird looks at you..._

That doesn’t make sense. She doesn’t make sense. He’d seen what he’d seen, hadn’t he? Yuri had propositioned Balthus, inviting him to his quarters tonight. That’s why Yuri now freezes when they lock lips, and why he kisses Ashe for minutes before pulling away. He’s got other interests and other pursuits, people more exciting to be around than his naive childhood friend, and Hapi is deluding herself in the process. 

He narrows his eyes.

Hapi’s one of the most observant people he’s ever met, and it isn’t like her to lie. So that doesn’t make sense either. 

Ashe lights the lantern by his bedside. He’s got some thinking to do about this-- about Yuri, about Balthus. It feels like he’s almost put this puzzle together, but he’s missing a single piece. A journal lies by his bedside table, rarely-used; Ashe grabs it and flips it open, beginning to write.

The jilted lovers in his books would never miss a chance for melodrama, but perhaps Ashe is more resilient than they are. He spills his thoughts across the pages, sprawling words in black ink, recounting every emotion he’d felt through the day, the jealousy, the confusion, the rage. He writes about Yuri’s distance, the cold smiles, the facade Ashe thought he’d won over that Yuri put back on; about Balthus and the conversation he’d overheard. He muses about Hapi and her casual dismissal of his thoughts, as though she knew something he didn’t, and once he puts her last words to paper realization hits him like a stray Nosferatu spell-- creeping gently, before consuming him all at once.

_Oh._

Ashe sits up straight. “I need to talk to Balthus,” he murmurs, though that won’t do right this moment. Not when Balthus is likely busy with Yuri in his bedchambers in Abyss. If Hapi’s to be believed, and he’s never had a reason to doubt her, Ashe and Balthus need to talk.

He barely sleeps that night and darts out of bed the next morning. Balthus is in the dining hall with Leonie, Caspar and Raphael, and through the din of breakfast chatter Ashe hears them talk about protein shakes and weight lifting regimens. It’s like they’re speaking a language that Ashe can’t decipher. Logic tells him it’s best to wait till Balthus is alone, but Ashe has already waited one night-- he doesn’t want to do so much longer! So he marches up to Balthus and swallows the lump in his throat. Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at Ashe, and he takes a deep breath, trying to quell the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest.

“Hey, uh... Balthus. Mind if we talk?”

Balthus’s gaze softens when it locks with his. “Of course. In fact, uh... I think there’s a conversation I’d like to have with you, actually. I’ll be back,” he says, casting the unofficial Garreg Mach weightlifting society an apologetic glance before shuffling aside. Ashe glances around the cafeteria, blinking back at Balthus.

“Uh, is there somewhere else we can go--”

“Wherever you want.” Balthus cocks a sideways grin and opens his arms, and Ashe is struck with the realization of how frank his body language is; his squared shoulders, the ease with which he beams. It’s easy to see how someone as closed off as Yuri might be drawn to someone like Balthus, and a twisting sensation squirms in Ashe’s gut. It hits him that he should have grabbed something to eat before approaching Balthus, but he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to keep food down. Ashe nods.

“Maybe there’s a quiet spot outside...”

The courtyard is relatively empty for this time of day, and Ashe takes a seat on a ledge by the grass. Balthus joins him, leaning back on his own arms, and Ashe hates how he’s overanalyzing every movement Balthus takes-- everything about him oozes honesty. He’d never have lasted a week out on the streets. Ashe takes a deep breath, but Balthus speaks first.

“So, let me guess. It’s about the boss?”

Ashe’s lips part in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Could have guessed it, ‘specially after I saw you run from the training grounds like a startled fawn.” 

“I was not a startled fa--”

“Anyway, yeah. If you wanted to know, Yuri and I are...” Balthus’ voice trails off, as though he’s trying and failing to find a way to skirt around the subject, “Having, uh, relations.”

“Ah,” Ashe says. He feels like he’s been knifed in the gut. Of course Yuri would be sleeping with Balthus, and not him. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum,” Balthus says, raising his hands. “You know it’s not so clear-cut, right? Because we sure did have a talk last night...”

Ashe’s eyes grow wider and wider when Balthus recounts their chat, and how Yuri had behaved. By the time they’re done, there’s only one conclusion that Ashe can reach. 

“We’ve got to talk to him. Together.”

*

Finding Yuri proves more difficult than Balthus would have thought. He likes to think that he knows Yuri fairly well, or at least knows his habits. Yuri, though, is skilled at disappearing when he wants to. Ashe doesn’t seem surprised by that, at least, which means that he probably knows Yuri a bit better than Balthus thought he did.

He walks next to him and has to crane his neck up to speak to him, but--hey--that’s something he’s used to. The only person at the monastery he could look at directly in the eyes was Dimitri’s right hand man.

When they don’t find Yuri in the classroom or at the Rose, Ashe finally clears his throat.

“Um…”

Balthus expects him to pipe up with a suggestion for where Yuri could be, which will inevitably turn out to be correct, because that’s Balthus’s lousy luck. Ashe knows Yuri better, Ashe is who Yuri wants to be with. But that’s a dangerous path to go down, even in his head. Not just because he’s long past the age where he should be getting this petty and jealous, but. This is what they’re going to talk to Yuri about.

“Shoot, buddy,” he says instead.

“Do you love him?”

Balthus almost wants to laugh, until he looks at that earnest face. Ashe isn’t a saint and he isn’t a rival: he’s a kid who’s been dealt a shitty hand. Balthus prescribes to the fact that he’s ruined his own life, but he also knows that Alliance politics and his stepmother were also to blame. He still remembers his mother waking him up in the middle of the night and saying that she had to go back to her village, but that she loved him and his father very much. Ashe is someone who’s lost a lot and who nearly lost even more when he was staring down Byleth’s blade on molten ground, taking their mercy and rejoining the fight on their side. How he argues with Caspar about justice and ideals that he believes in so fiercely.

How he and Balthus have nothing in common except for this man that they both love. This man who frustrates them with his games and his unwillingness to say what he really feels.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I think I do.”

Ashe chances a slight smile. “Me too.”

They’re heading back to the surface, when a flash of purple and gray catches Balthus in the corner of his eye. He turns towards the library and--there he is. Yuri stands in front of them, frozen like a prey animal staring down a hunter’s notched arrow. That alone is strange, because Yuri always gives the image that he’s the hunter. He’s the wolf running soundlessly through the forest, but right now he looks like the rabbit, cornered and terrified. Balthus remembers Holst telling him that rabbits startle easily when they were kids, raising lop-eared things in a hutch on Goneril land so Hilda could have some to pet. If you came at them from the wrong direction, they could frighten themselves so badly that their hearts just stopped.

“Hey, boss.”

Yuri straightens himself and expertly flicks some hair out of his eyes.

“The two of you together is a funny sight,” he says. When neither of them laughs, he clarifies it with, “your heights, I mean.”

Ashe frowns and folds his arms over his chest.

“I’m taller than you now, Yuri.”

Balthus’s lips twitch in laughter. The way Ashe says it, kind of snide, reveals a snarky streak he kind of likes. Maybe it wasn’t _just_ his inherent goodness that drew Yuri to him. Saint Ashe, he had called him. Maybe not.

“Fair, fair. What brings you to team up?”

“I think you know.”

Yuri places one hand on his hip and flicks the other out.

“Do I?”

“Boss,” Balthus says, “We need to talk.”

He seems to realize that neither Ashe nor Balthus is falling for his act. Yuri drops both of his hands to his sides and nods.

“Alright, but not here.”

“Why not?” Ashe asks. He squints his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out if Yuri’s having them on.

From behind a stack of books, a head pops up. With it comes a hand holding the handle of a candlestick.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Claude says. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes almost seem to be dancing with suppressed laughter.

The three of them stare at him for a moment longer before looking at one another once more.

“Let’s go to my room,” Balthus says.

Yuri nods and walks between them as they walk further back into Abyss. If Balthus were into heavy thinking and all that, he would think that there’s something symbolic. He and Ashe on either side of Yuri as he walks between them. But instead he figures it’s just good sense so Yuri can’t bolt.

When they’re in his room, he considers locking it, but that seems so final. They’re here to talk and figure out what’s going on between the three of them and how it’s going to work.

“Yuri, we’re both in love with you,” Ashe says before Balthus can even sit his ass down on his mattress.

Balthus has gambling debt enough to fund this entire war, but even _he_ can see how bad of a bet this is. It seems that his previous day’s assessment of Ashe’s lack of ability to hide his emotions was spot on.

Yuri raises his eyebrows.

“Both of you?”

He knows that those scrutinizing eyes ringed in eyeliner and shimmering eyeshadow are on him.

“Don’t think of it as, ah, a _proclamation_ , boss,” he says.

“Is it not?”

Ashe lets loose a frustrated sound from deep in his throat.

“No!” he snaps. He points at Yuri with one, accusatory finger. “No games! Please, Yuri.”

Yuri looks surprised at his outburst. He stares down Ashe’s finger and then looks up at his eyes.

“Alright,” he says. “Go ahead, sparrow.”

Ashe draws in a deep breath and rolls his shoulders back like he’s going to battle. Balthus has never seen him look so angry but, admittedly, he hasn’t paid much attention to Ashe. Not before yesterday, anyway.

“Balthus and I had a long discussion and...we both are in love with you. And I think you’re in love with both of us.”

He lifts his chin defiantly after he says it and even Yuri looks impressed.

“I am?”

Balthus gets up from where he’s sitting and stands up to his full height. Maybe he and Ashe _do_ look comical standing next to each other, but he thinks it’s fairly effective to stand before him as a united front. Yuri is sitting and with his face tilted up towards them, looking...actually pretty vulnerable. Despite his smooth words, his painted mouth is slack and his hands lie heavily on his lap.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Ashe says. “Ever since I went with Lonato to Lord Rowe’s estate and saw you throwing food to the cats and dogs from afar because you couldn’t go near them.”

Yuri looks at Balthus as if to say _“See?”_ about what he said yesterday about proclamations and Balthus being more cavalier, but he doesn’t seem very into it.

“And you, friend?” he asks.

And what about Balthus, yeah?

_Good fucking question._

“I like to think about you staying in bed with me,” he says after a moment’s thought. “Waking up with you every mornin’. It’s nice.”

Yuri closes his eyes for a moment and drops his head. He raises it a moment later and sighs.

“It isn’t easy,” he says. “I don’t...know…”

His voice sounds far away and almost delicate. It reminds Balthus of his stepmother’s fancy porcelain that he broke once in a fit--back when he still defied her and fought against her treatment towards him.

“Don’t know what?”

Ashe’s fire is still there, on the back of his voice, but his words are softer.

“I don’t do love,” Yuri says. “It’s easier that way...always was. I’m. I’m who I am. And then you two. You both do my head in, you know that?”

He chuckles lightly.

“You may be right, sparrow. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

That’s more than Balthus has ever expected. Maybe it’s because they’ve cornered him or because they’re working together that got the confession out of Yuri. But it’s out there. So now what do they do?

Ashe comes to sit by him and Balthus takes that as his cue to go to his other side. Yuri glances between them.

“We can show you what to do with that, boss,” Balthus says.

And, really, he doesn’t know much to do with love either. Balthus thinks he’s been in love, truly in love, once before Yuri and that was...years ago. But Ashe’s determination is contagious.

“Yes,” Ashe says. “We can.”

Yuri shifts his gaze between them and a small smile settles on his lips.

“Well. I guess we better get to teaching me, then,” he says. “I demand a private lesson with each of you.”

The three of them laugh together and Balthus very nearly feels good. Yuri slips his hand out to squeeze his. He sees him do the same with the other to Ashe.

“Guess you do have a loverboy now, hmm?” Yuri asks archly.

He raises his brows and leans in towards him to nip at his chin. Balthus lowers his head to kiss him and grins against his mouth.

“Oh, for sure.”

“Next time you and Caspar scrap, I’ll help you out.”

Ashe makes a loud squawk of indignance.

“Hey, no cheating!” he exclaims. “Either of you!”

Yuri gives another chuckle and Balthus joins in on the laughter. Ashe glares at them both, but he doesn’t look too mad. He’s still holding Yuri’s other hand anyway. Balthus doesn’t think it’s all wrapped up in a pretty ribbon, but he thinks they’ve made a good start. He doesn’t mind sharing Yuri with Ashe so long as he gets him in his bed. Everyone wins. _He_ wins, for the first time in a long time. It feels good.

*

Yuri tastes like sugar and cinnamon, and his kisses feel like care and fairy dust. Ashe smiles as Yuri peppers butterfly kisses down his chest, his neck; their contact lingers for moments when Yuri shifts his hands, leaving Ashe with the ghost of every touch. Despite Ashe’s usual fears, this is one way in which he doesn’t mind being haunted.

Light filters in through the curtains of Ashe’s room, bathing Yuri in a halo of warmth. Perhaps this is a cliche, something out of a fairytale that hasn’t been written yet, but it’s been months and being with Yuri still feels novel and new. Yuri pulls Ashe down on the bed, and a devilish grin creeps onto his lips when he whispers the words, “I’m ready.”

Ashe’s eyes widen with surprise, but he’s met with another kiss, Yuri tugging Ashe closer towards him, a questing hand wandering under Ashe’s shirt. Ashe nods back, mouthing the words, “Only if you’re sure,” as he begins to unhook Yuri’s pants.

He’s read about sex in educational books, and occasionally in the raunchy knights’ tales that he and Hapi share. But the act in practice is something different altogether. Slender mage fingers grasp Ashe’s own, guiding Ashe’s hand between his own legs, and Ashe is struck with how much this must mean for Yuri to be vulnerable, what a significant act this is for him, for _them_. Warmth bursts through his chest, and a gentle flush crosses Ashe’s cheeks. 

Yuri’s relationship with Balthus can’t be equated with his dynamic with Ashe. Ashe learned that the hard way. It’s about pacing what works best for both of them, and it makes sense that someone like Yuri might want to take more time. 

Yuri’s a sight when he’s unraveled beneath him. Their gazes lock into one another’s, and Ashe is filled with a thrill of excitement when he realizes that _he did this_. When they’re done Yuri raises a hand to cup Ashe’s cheek, pulling him down for a long, languid kiss. And in that moment, Ashe knows for sure that it was worth the wait.


End file.
